for the OQ prompt party 2021.

prompts used:
12 : Missing Year - late night swim
142 : robin asks regina to rip his heart out in the missing year to see what it looks like and it has a some darkness swirling through it
106 : oq get trapped together somewhere during the missing year
240 : Little John keeps trying to get Regina and Robin to acknowledge their feelings
214 : Missing Year - anything with little john
139 : david catching oq making out in the missing year

set in the Iridescence verse.


Luminescence

"Regina, please."

"Not a chance, thief."

Robin sighs, as softly as he can, so that she can't hear or even perceive his disapproval. She has her hands crossed, a pout on her lips he might define as something adorable, and she absolutely refuses to help him open this door until he'll not-so-gracefully admit that he can't possibly do it without her magic.

He bends down again, tries again, but his renamed skills of all pick-pocketing and forcing doors open are failing him.

He ignores how they ended up in this dire situation – Regina has, not so carefully, slammed a door close behind her, after following him into this poor excuse for a broom closet. The door looks as if they've designed it for a convenient hideout place during a war, and not for purely innocent purposes like cleaning. And now they find themselves stuck, with an enraged queen who adamantly refuses to make use of her magical abilities and free them.

Robin looks back – she refuses to meet his gaze, seemingly more interested in a spider-web, and he sighs again, this time not so subtly. "Please, milady," he tries, realizing his ominous mistake only seconds after the word has exited his mouth.

She snaps at him, immediately, "It's your Majesty!" – as he expected – after all, there's little he does that doesn't grate on her nerves.

"I'm sorry," he concedes, and motions once again to the door. "Could you please do me the favor of opening this door, your Majesty?". Regina looks at him, astonished, for once he's surprised to see his words have made such an impact on her. He, for one, doesn't have so much pride that it could actually stop him from being reasonable.

And he for sure doesn't share this characteristic with her, because she sneers, haughtily, "There still is something you have to say before I deign myself with opening the blasted door, thief."

She nears him – the proximity of her body is as tantalizing as always, or especially more promising now that she is so close – desperately close, with just half a step she could be flush against him.

"Or you have forgotten how to pronounce words?"

He watches her as she approaches him, slow as a panther, her hand touching lightly his cheek, her nails then sinking not-so-gently into his skin. She grabs his chin, her lips mere inches from his own, and whispers Just say you need my magic, just say it. Robin gulps – noticeably, he thinks, and his hand surrounds her back, pulling her closer. There's been something between them since their last evening together, but this electricity he feels is something else, Regina's brown eyes deep and sultry, and Robin kisses her.

He regrets it in the exact same moment it happens – not the kiss, never the kiss, but rather the not asking her if she desired to share such an intimate action with – but she moans, Regina, her hand scratching his neck now, and he feels… hot, a growing need makes him uncomfortable and blissful at the same time.

He forgets everything – everything, everything that isn't Regina and her kisses and her roaming hands, or Regina pushing him against one of the walls, objects he can't (and doesn't care to) identify falling around them. She hisses, her mouth falling down towards his neck, her lips finding his skin and sucking with rage – Robin doesn't even start to think this may be becoming too painful for his tastes. This new… version… of the queen is worrying, yes, but it undeniably is attractive. Even though she may be using him to scratch an itch, he will oblige – will give her what she needs and requests, nothing more, nothing less.

The world outside the closet is reduced to a nothingness because nothing else matters, just Regina, Regina kissing him and leaving her blessed marks on every inch of his skin she can find –

Bang!

Cold air invades the restricted space, all at once. Robin feels her shiver against him, just for a moment, she's still in the act of kissing him as a well-known voice lets out a strangled sound.

"What – what is going on?"

Regina releases him immediately, it happens in a matter of instants. Her hands still on the nape of his neck, he catches sight of her face, an expression that resembles vividly his son's face when Robin catches him stealing Little John's candy.

"David!" she lets out, startled, her cheeks instantly colored of a dangerous red shade. "How – what – "

"I – " the prince stutters, then meekly points towards the closet. "I was looking for a… bucket, for… for Granny," he says. "Regina, I…"

Robin stays silent – he doesn't feel embarrassment, or anything of the sort. In fact, he just feels worried – because he knows how much Regina loathes a public display of affection of any sort (even though, to be completely fair, it was a rather private affair until the prince barged in). And she… she is trembling, just slightly, her hand curling in a way he's come to know as the start of a fireball – Robin places a placating hand on her forearm, but she snatches her arm away.

"Let me go – just – " she wrestles free from his hold, and she cannot meet his eyes, her gaze full of something that resembles murder – as she stares at David.

"Just… go to hell, Charming!" she yells, and waves her hand with so much force he swears her arm must be hurt after such a movement – smoke surrounds her, and she's gone.

"Fuck," he hears David mutter, as he collapses against the door. "Robin, I'm – I'm sorry, I didn't know you two were… in there."

Robin sighs, looks at the prince, and thinks he doesn't have the heart of being angry with someone who's clearly already distraught. "It's… it's alright, your highness," he offers. "I'll talk to her."

"Yeah, you… you do that. Gods," David says, doing everything he can to avoid Robin's gaze. "Also, can you please ask Regina… when she's calmed down and doesn't want to murder me… can you please ask her for a memory potion?"

.:.

Humiliated.

She paces in her room, tirelessly. Her hand opens and closes repeatedly, stretches, and she holds herself back from hurling a fireball towards an innocent mirror.

Fuck Charming. And fuck the thief, she adds for good measure, her hand going up towards her hair – the same hair the thief was pulling around his fingers just minutes ago, just as he was having his way with her. And she'd have let him do things, she knows, she has let him before, after all.

Regina reaches the wall, and before she can think about it, she slams her palm against the hard rock, repeatedly. It hurts, it does, but less than the humiliation and shame she felt when the idiot prince caught them kissing (and she's not ashamed of Robin, dear gods, she's not – it was a private moment, one she has fought for months, and Charming had to barge in with his idiotic smile and his stupid bucket, for heaven's sake).

She feels the hot sting of tears before she can stop them – an ugly sob rises from her throat and exits in half a scream. She'll be damned. She's broken beyond repair, if a stupid kiss with a stupid thief has this damn effect on her. Mother always said she had too much fire inside her – for all her attempts of taming it, it seems not even Mother could transform her into an ethereal creature of grace and air and light. She's fire and she's rage and pain and she's so damn stupid

"Regina?"

The voice is all too familiar, all too soft and understanding.

"Go away," she rumbles, knowing it's no use – there's something the thief is incapable of doing, and that's giving up on her. It's irritating to say the least.

"Open up, please," he says patiently. "Or I'll be forced to pick the lock."

"I could enchant the door," she sasses back, but they both know she won't do that. It seems the thief has indeed slithered his way inside her heart, after all, like he does with the vaults and castles he wants to rob.

"Please," he simply says. "I just want to talk."

She huffs, not so regally, and takes a couple of long strides towards the damn door. He is there, as he always is – why can't he leave her alone – but the cocky grin she expected is not.

"Can I come in?"

She nods, watches as he enters her rooms, and closes the door after him. Her hands are on her hips, she lifts her eyebrow. "Well, you're here. Now do the talking."

She can see he's about to speak – after all, he has all the reasons to be as angry as she is, but he somehow is as calm as ever – instead he stops, the thief, and takes the two steps needed to be closer to her. She starts cowering, but he doesn't do anything. He just takes her hand, and lifts it.

"You hurt yourself."

It's not a question, it's a statement, and Regina snatches her hand away. "I am capable of healing myself, thank you very much," she says with the usual bite. He lifts concerned blue eyes towards her, and she regrets her words – too much bite, maybe.

"May I take care of your hand while we talk, your Majesty?"

He's gentle with her – too gentle, and fuck, tears are prickling at her eyes again. She averts her gaze and begrudgingly nods, following him towards her vanity where he knows she keeps her healing herbs. (It's not the first time he heals her wounds, and it will not be the last, she suspects).

They sit together, silence filling the room as he readies the simple instruments he'll need. Lavender oil, arnica, and a chamomile unguent, bandages; she watches as he works with the easiness of a seasoned leader of a bunch of reckless men.

"I am sorry for earlier," he offers, spreading the unguents on her palm. "The prince is, as well. He didn't intend to do what he did."

"I know he didn't," she mutters. She's looking anywhere but at her hand, and yet she can feel the care and gentleness he's using. "I'm still angry, though. Humiliated. I…" she gulps down, her head turns and she meets her own eyes in the mirror. "You know how… I told you how I need to follow a certain pace, with… well, all of this."

"I know," he says gravely. He starts enveloping a bandage around her wrist and palm. "And I won't fault you for that, you know it."

She nods, silently, her eyes cast down. "I wish I could be different. With less demons… more carefree," she adds, as an afterthought. She's never told him this – he ignores just about everything of her brokenness, of her damaged heart and soul. And yet she suspects he, in a way, already knows.

He ties a knot around her hand, and says, "You should leave it for a few hours," he starts to tidy up her bottles. When he's done, she looks up at him, and – he lifts a hand, runs a thumb on her cheek. "I may have an idea about that carefree life you were talking about," he says, pensively. "I'll have to check if John can look after Roland tonight, but… can I interest you in a little escapade?"

Regina's heart does a little somersault – she didn't think her heart was even capable of something like that, to be entirely honest. He waits patiently for her answer, lets her ponder all her alternatives. Until, something calls out to her, something long forgotten, that smells like horses and trees and freedom. Until she answers to her soulmate, and chooses to trust him.

"Alright."

.:.

He finds Little John right where he thought he'd be – in her Majesty's kitchen, helping Granny. He's peeling potatoes, and somehow the sight of the burly man all concentrated in this menial task brings him back in time. To a simpler time, when Roland was younger and life was easier. He shakes those thoughts away and nears his friend, who lifts his head.

"Rob," he greets him. "Came to help me with the potatoes, brother?"

"I'm afraid I have my son to find, my friend," Robin smiles. "I actually came to ask for a favor. Could you… could you watch him tonight? I'm afraid I'll be detained elsewhere, and I know you're his second favorite person when it comes to bedtime."

John shrugs, his tongue between his lips, brow furrowed as he peels a particularly challenging side of the potato. "Sure thing. I love spending time with the little tyke, you know that."

"Thank you so much," Robin pats his forearm, and throws a side glance towards Granny. "I'll owe you one."

"You don't owe me anything, if it's about watching Roland," John laughs. "The Queen placed you on patrol duty again, didn't she? What did you do this time to make her upset, Rob?"

Robin gulps, trying not to look suspiciously guilty (or anyway, not to give too much away with his expression that must have changed at the mention of the queen). "I… actually, no, I'm not on patrol."

"Well then I hope you have a nice evening planned, my friend," John grins mischievously, tosses his potato towards a growing pile of cleaned ones. "I swear you two have the thickest skulls I've ever encountered. Stubborn as mules, the both of you."

Granny must have overheard him, because Robin hears her hum in approval as she pretends not to have heard anything and stirs something in a pot.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he tells him, with a detached expression that would make Regina proud. "Also, she wouldn't be happy to be compared to a mule."

John just looks up at him, with a knowing smile – Robin hasn't fooled him, not one bit, and apparently Granny must have the same opinions, because she grabs his sleeve.

"Look, Locksley," the old wolf says, her eyes piercing as always, "before you… go out tonight, come by the kitchen again. I'll have a little something ready for you. And don't forget," she scolds him.

Robin nods, thanks her and John for watching Roland, and decides to exit the kitchen before these two say something he might regret hearing.

.:.

Regina waits for him near the gates. She managed to exit undetected, with a bit of magic and good luck, despite almost running into Snow. The evening air is chilly even though it is a night of June, but the sky is clear and she can see the stars. She leans against the walls of the castle, her head resting against the stones as she watches up towards the skies. The Hunter, the Compass, The Lioness. The Northern Crown, the Twins. She names the constellations Daniel taught her – it was a night very similar to this one, the air calm and still, the trees slightly ruffled by the wind.

The moon.

It's a waning crescent moon – she wonders, lazily, if she should read the runes soon.

And suddenly, the thief arrives.

He's accompanied by the soft sounds of two horses, and apparently he's taken care of everything they will need for this little escapade, as he called it.

"Milady," he greets her, bowing his head. "Shall we go?"

Regina nods, takes the reins of her horse – he's always been good at calming her horse down, Robin, she has always appreciated his gentleness with animals (even during those first months when she couldn't stand him).

He waits for her to mount, and follows, pushing the horses to a trot in no time.

She doesn't speak, during their ride, apart from few words, few exchanges that don't do anything to disturb the quietness of their silence.

"Roland?" she murmurs.

"He's with John and Granny – and I presume, asleep very soon," he answers. "Are you alright?"

She ponders his words, his tone, and analyzes it perhaps for far too long. In the end, she opts for a simple That depends on how this evening will go, and she throws him a smile that has his eyes brightening. She doesn't ask when they'll reach their destination, doesn't start a conversation, and finds that with him even the complete silence is comfortable. They keep riding their horses. In another moment, she'd be inclined to feel the slightest bit of worry about her sister's minions who usually patrol the skies, but not tonight. It seems to her that tonight is somehow sacred, that it can't be touched by anything unpleasant, and she basks in the sensation.

She sighs, deeply, sees him turn towards her – but he must know her, by now, because he just smiles and turns right back towards the road ahead.

"We're almost there," he says, after a little while. "It's not so far from the castle, after all."

"I've never been to this side of the forest," she notices. "And if I did, it probably was in a carriage."

He chuckles, throws an amused look at her. "Well, I couldn't very well steal a carriage tonight. It's a tad more noticeable than two horses. There, that's the place."

He stop the horse – dismounts, and goes to help her down. (She doesn't need it, of course. But he likes these small gestures, she's noticed, and she feels herself falling a bit more every time his hand brushes hers).

It's a river – the same river that runs near the castle, but this one spot is situated towards the North of the Kingdom, and it spreads into a lake of some sort. She sees trees and pebbles near the river bank, but still, the place is a bit dark for her liking.

Robin has let her observe her surroundings, and started to unload their precious cargo from his horse and hers. She wonders, briefly, what he has brought. He grabs a couple of bags, starts walking towards the bank – Regina knows she could very well leave the remaining bags to him, but she does what she wouldn't have done months ago, and lifts them up, following him.

"I'll just – oh," he says, when he notices she has already reached him. "Thank you, love."

She shrugs (as if the moniker hasn't moved something in her darkened heart), and places the sacks at his feet. "Do you happen to have something to make some light?"

"Oh we'll do better than that. But not now, it would attract the flies," he says. "Now, milady, we are going to have a nice swim."

She feels the laughter bubble up before she can stop it. "Now?" she asks, incredulous.

"Right now," he is unfazed, and he kicks away his boots, starts to undress – she's still frozen on the spot and he's already half bare, his torso now uncovered, and she tries to stop her roaming eyes from gawking. "I mean, if you want some… privacy, I guess I could get into the water first and wait for you to join me," he tells her, and takes her hand into his. "But I would very much like to undress you, if you'll allow it."

She is lost in his eyes. Her heart is so warm she thinks it could melt in her chest. (He is waiting for her, as he always has, and he has brought her here just because she was upset with Charming). And now he nears her and places a soft kiss on her lips, just a peck, just a little something to ground her.

"Alright," she hears herself whisper.

He eyes her for a moment, as if he's wondering if she really is alright. "You still have some doubts."

"No, no doubts," she answers quickly, because it's true – of all the reckless things she's done in her life, this one won't hurt her. "It's just… won't it be cold?"

Robin smiles at her, pecks her lips once more. "I promise, it's not cold," he assures. "The water has been receiving the sun for hours, and it's actually quite pleasant after the sunset."

She nods – it seems she's convinced him now, because his nimble fingers work on the buckle of her cloak, on her simple white shirt, and his hands travel down to her riding pants, and he kisses her naked thighs and – gods, he's awakening things she didn't even think she could feel again. He rises up, pushes down his own trousers, and she averts her eyes from his bareness.

Gods, she used to be emotionless and cold and ruthless when it came to sex, what is happening to her? When did she turn into this blushing fool?

"Let's go into the water, Regina," he calls, holds out one hand. She walks with him – there's no instinct telling her to cover herself, to shield herself from his gaze, because it's Robin, and he has seen things of her soul that are far more embarrassing than what she's displaying right now, far more intimate than a bit of nudity.

The water is, indeed, quite pleasant. He treads in, and she follows him, the sounds of crickets the only music they will be granted with tonight.

He submerges his body almost instantly, with the ease of someone who's done this many times already. Regina hesitates, walking slowly on the pebbled ground, walking until the lukewarm water covers her breasts. She watches him as he goes down and then up again, and down again, and her fingers curl against her wrist as she waits for him to emerge.

A movement at her feet – she's already thinking about releasing her magic when she feels him, and he surfaces right in front of her. He rises to his feet and his hand cups her cheek. "You're sure you want to do this?"

Regina nods, slightly taken aback by his gentleness, and whispers, "I just need to get acquainted with the water."

Robin's hand slithers down and curls around hers. "Come with me," he invites, slowly, softly, and she follows him towards deeper waters, towards a place where she wouldn't dare to go, were he not here with her.

.:.

He feels good.

This whole evening feels divine, if he has to be honest. Had someone told him that one day he'd take her Majesty the Queen for a night swim, both naked as the day they were born, and that he'd get to hold her in his arms under the moon, he would have laughed and told that person to please stop joking.

But it is, undeniably, true.

Regina feels like a marvel – the fact that she's started to open up, although slowly and with many steps back during the months he's known her, surely helps him in his quest to make her see that there is some good in this life. Even through her heartbreaks and losses, there always is a silver lining.

He exits the water before her, because he wants to ready a bonfire, and he has to gather some of the wood branches he can see around. It's easy, he is used to it, but he still doesn't want Regina to catch a cold if he can avoid it.

It seems he needn't have worried, though, because she exits the water with the grace of a naiad, and curls her hand up in an elaborate gesture. When she releases the air, there's a small fireball fluctuating next to her, warming her up. She dries herself as he works, with the cloths he has brought from the castle, and she's just fastening her cloak when he has the fire ready to be lit.

"Your Majesty," he gives her a small bow, motions to the carefully constructed pile of branches. "If you would be so kind."

A corner of her lips tips up in amusement, and she sends that same fireball towards the dry wood. It instantly takes, the crackling sounds he so loves fill the air, and he finally sits and starts drying his hands.

Regina sits next to him, her gaze fixated on the fire, lost in thought.

This won't do – she was carefree and happy just minutes ago, he thinks, so he makes one of those bold moves he has come to associate with risk and danger (when it comes to her, always, at least for now); he takes her hand.

"Are you alright?" he asks, lowly. She surprises him – her fingers intertwine with his, she brings his hand up to her lips and kisses its back.

"I sometimes wonder," she starts, her voice hoarse. She gives a small cough, starts again. "I wonder why do you treat me so well, after all the times I've been horrible to you."

It's quiet, her confession. And undoubtedly, months ago he probably would have mocked her words, in retaliation for her cutting and sassy remarks. But not tonight.

"Someone really wise once told me," he begins, rubbing his thumb on the back of her hand, "that the people who are unkind or… malevolent… they often are in pain, and that is just a way to hide that pain." He thinks of his Marian and how broken he was when she passed, how his son was the only person capable of making him smile, and how he treated his men for the first months while he was grieving – until something inside John finally snapped, and Robin got scolded in a way he's never forgotten. "I have known you were in pain ever since I have helped you break into your castle. So," he stares at her, deep into her eyes, so intent on listening. "I fully expect to be treated like that in the future," he smiles, "but grieving is a funny thing, and no one would expect you to be alright with it after just a few months."

Regina nods, averts her eyes, staring at the fire again. "It's not just the grieving," she murmurs. "You… you have no idea how dark my heart is. How… damaged I am."

She says that word slowly, as if she wants him to really understand it.

And she's embarrassed, he notices. He doesn't think she's used to opening herself up like this – not with the princess, he assumes, and certainly not with the prince. So he says the only thing he can think of to make her feel – if not better, at least some resemblance of good mood.

"Can I ask you a favor, milady?" he says. She turns towards him, clearly surprised, as if she can't believe he'd let such an important moment pass unnoticed and ask for a favor. Something dims in her eyes, a resigned expression takes hold of her features.

"What do you need?" she whispers, as if she doesn't want to disturb the night.

"Can you…" he gulps down non-existent saliva, suddenly nervous. "Can I show you my heart?"

Her eyes instantly widen. (It's curious, really: after these months, he still holds the capacity to sometime surprise such an extraordinary woman). "What?" she asks, her hand up tentatively, fluctuating near his chest. "You cannot mean I should…"

"Yes. Literally," he says, as simply as he can manage. He meets her hand halfway, squeezes her fingers slightly. "I need you to see it. Please, Regina."

The sound of her name seems to move some hidden chord inside her, because her gaze turns of stone and she looks at him – her eyes reflecting the fire, she looks like an otherworldly creature. "It will hurt," she informs him dryly. "But I imagine you already know that."

He simply nods, bracing himself for the pain. Her hand is quick as she plunges it inside his chest, and what can only be described as a ripping sensation takes hold of his chest, until it's over – almost before it's started.

His heart is in her hands, its luminescence hypnotizing. And although some would tremble in fear, knowing that the once Evil Queen is holding their heart, Robin has never trusted her more than he does in this moment.

She turns it, cradling it gently. The decent amount of red is oftentimes interrupted by swirling patches of the purest black. He expected it – he knows what he's done in his past, and he's not going to deny that he used to be very different. But Regina – Regina's expression is unreadable, despite his best effort to see what she is thinking.

"You…" her voice is so low he almost misses it. "You are not a pure of heart," she says. "I…"

"You didn't think it would be like this, did you?"

Her eyes are confused to say the least, when he raises them to meet his. "I… don't know what to say."

"Sometimes there isn't anything to say," he shrugs, and cups her hands around his heart. "This is what I am. It would be hypocrite to judge someone else."

"That's not… I'm different," her voice is a broken whisper, and there's the faintest trace of tears on her cheek. "I appreciate the… attempt… but I'm – "

"Lovable, wonderful, amazing, extraordinary, and imperfect? Absolutely," he says, and he leans in. The kiss tastes like salt and vanilla, and as she cradles his head, she takes care not to jostle his heart. He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against hers.

"Thank you," she whispers. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. In fact," he tells her, jovially this time, "I'd ask you to push that old battered thing back where it belongs, and then we must eat the food Granny has so kindly prepared for us, lest she checks the basket tomorrow morning."

A wet chuckle escapes Regina, but she nods, wipes away a tear. She looks at him, and he nods, biting his lip, as she returns his heart to its rightful place. (He would say that her hands are, too, its rightful place, but it's entirely too soon for that).

He holds her while they eat – there's silence, and occasionally a few comments about the food, or the irritating dwarves, or the memory potion she is going to pour into Charming's morning beverage. He won't push her further than this, tonight – and he fully expects her to be back to her snarky self in a matter of hours, because there is some kind of deceit in the way they treat each other when they're not alone.

For now, he's content with the rare glimpses of the true Regina he has been granted the honor of seeing tonight – glimpses that are less and less rare the further their strange relationship goes, but he won't push. That's what he promised himself (and her) when they first saw the possibility of this something they have.

He cards his fingers in her hair, and dreams of a day when she won't have this many demons plaguing her – he can't wait to see how magnificent she'll be in that moment.